


Every Heartbeat

by HerbertBest



Series: Two Good Witches [6]
Category: Game Grumps, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Blow Jobs, Dogs and Pets, Falling In Love, Humor, M/M, Magic, Parties, Pets, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sick Character, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerbertBest/pseuds/HerbertBest
Summary: When Jack's percussive magic causes a neighborhood-wide disaster, he and his coven friends band together to make everything right.





	Every Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheseusInTheMaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/gifts).



> Part of my Two Witches 'verse! Thank you to Theseus for asking for this!

Jack thrummed his fingers against the top of the book. Thrummed and tapped and wiggled and soon he was stomping in rhythm in a way that made the toast start to burn in Holly’s toaster.

He looked up at the shriek and saw her wincing, pulling burnt bits of bread out of the machine with tongs, having yanked it free of the wall a few seconds earlier. “Hi, Hol,” he said lightly. “Didn’t tell me it overheats,” he added.

“That’s because it doesn’t,” she said. “Jack, it happened again! You’ve been doing so well lately, I just don’t understand how your magic works!”

“I know.” He eyeballed the very black toast and felt quite guilty, shifting in his seat. “Shit,” he said, shaking his head. “Terribly sorry, Hol, won’t do that one a fucking gain.”

“You said that when you broke my flower pot by mistake last week,” she said, sitting on the kitchen counter. “Your rhythm’s getting stronger, Jack. I know there’s a way to get it out, but it’s going to be easier said than done.”

He moaned. “But it’s taking forever!”

“Everything takes forever,” Holly said wisely, and he gave her a little roll of the eyes. She pinched his shoulder and he stuck his tongue out. “We’ll take this up with the head of the coven after class. Did you finish what you needed to get done for your paper?”

He nodded. “Got the research done this morning, got both papers ready to go and finished off a couple of speeches. I’m going to be ready for whatever that school throws at me!”

As if he’d conjured her up, the back door swung open and Suzy entered the kitchen, still wearing the outfit she’d worn on her date with Arin. She didn’t blush, but she looked exhausted.

“Did you have fun last night?” Holly asked, a smile brightening her expression.

Suzy grinned, her big heels clomping on the polished floor. “Best date ever,” she said, and placed her shoes on the counter. She heaved out a great big sigh and leaned onto her palm, smiling as she seemed to remember whatever she and Arin had done. Jack found their relationship amusing. It was so new, and in its own way so cartoonishly extravagant, filled with obvious great love but so very storybook. Who manages to fall in love because they needed body fluids to grow an orchid? The fact that the thing – thriving and enormous – was sitting beside him on the kitchen counter just made the entire situation even more absurd. 

Then again, who in this day and age managed to meet cute over magical drumming and a broken coffee cup? Jack’s whole life had been that surreal since he’d joined up with the coven, and it’d been even more so since he’d made out with the cute barista down the street in a wine cellar. His relationship with Mark was moving forward by baby steps, their lives were caught in a gentle pattern of flirtation and getting to know each other, of cuddling on couches and making out as a movie played, unwatched, on Holly’s TV set. It was nice. Jack was frustrated and he utterly yearned to consummate the relationship, but it was nice. He felt respected and desired. Maybe if things kept going the way they were, he might even end up feeling like he was truly and utterly loved.

So his question had perhaps a bit more edge to it than it normally would when he leaned his chin onto his palm and smiled at Suzy. “So did you slap the bass like a mofo?”

The women groaned in tandem, but Jack’s grin was wide and cheeky. He loved them like sisters, but if they were going to Three Companys up this business, then he was going to be sure to tease them back just as fondly.

*** 

Jack was whistling when he entered the coffee shop a few hours later, his toes springing against the floor and a wide grin on this face. His quiz had gone well, and both of his papers had been passed in. There hadn’t been any unusual surprises, so when he entered the shop he actually skittered to a stop and stared at the space where Mark should have stood.

Dan was handing out lattes to a batch of giggling high school girls, and Jack had to fight his way to the front counter to capture his attention. 

“Hey man, want your usual?”

Jack accidentally kicked the counter as he swung into place. “Oh sure, but I can’t stay for long - where’s Mark?”

“So subtle,” Dan said, pouring coffee, adding sugar and cream until it resembled nothing so much as melted ice cream. “He’s home with the flu,” Dan said. “Apparently he got up ralphing this morning. Arin covered for him this morning, but it’s slow enough that I don’t need reinforcements yet. I’ve got a night class and he’s gonna come back at five.”

“Terrible!” He immediately pulled out his phone and tapped out a text. “Do you think he’d take a visitor or two?”

Dan handed him his coffee and leaned against the counter. “I think he’d love one, but I don’t wanna be responsible for you getting sick. Actually, maybe you don’t wanna go down there, man, I don’t know how what he has will do something weird to you.”

“I’m a human being,” Jack reminded Dan. “So is your girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” he said, and had the grace to wince when he mentioned Holly. “You’re a human being, but y’know…maybe being all magical might do something to you that neither of us knows about?” Dan’s nervousness would be endearing at any other time, but Jack was so frankly annoyed that he stared him down. “I’m sorry,” Dan said quietly.

“S’not a trouble,” Jack sang out, almost lyrically. “You’re not one of the coven. You’re a mudblood.”

Dan actually seemed to take a bit of offense to that. “Hey!”

“Don’t be getting sore. It’s not my fault your bloody blood is muddy.” Jack’s blue eyes were snapping, and Dan’s own dry expression was less than supportive. He seemed to know Jack meant nothing by it, that his own silliness was just a bit of a lark, a little pinch of ridiculousness that made the entire day a fraction more bearable. 

“My blood is sexy!” Dan said. “And we don’t live in Harry Potter! Our lives are way weirder!” Jack was hooting by now, his laughter pealing from his lips. “Do you want something with your coffee?” Dan finally asked.

“Nah nothing for me. I’ll be getting him some chicken soup and something fresh for Mark somewhere else. He’ll probably be wanting some medicine, too. Does anyone call a doctor ‘round in this town?”

“Of course,” said Dan. “But they don’t make house calls in the States.”

“Barbaric,” Jack said lightly. But he thanked Dan for the coffee, and then mapped the distance from the shop to the nearest restaurant selling chicken soup. 

 

**** 

Mark lived in a small brick flat on the other side of town. It wasn’t like the row of brick apartments where Arin and Dan shared space, nor did it resemble the slightly more upscale place he shared with Holly and Suzy, an apartment mostly paid for by Suzy’s working class parents, the remnants of the money Holly had left over from her parents’ estate, and the money the lot of them could contribute to the pot. Mark’s neighborhood was well-kept, and the gilt was still golden on the doorframe when Jack buzzed his mailbox in the lobby.

“Ugh,” Mark groaned. “please be the guy from the grocery store up the street,” he groaned.

“It’s Jack. I brought you soup!”

“Aww. I didn’t think you’d get here this fast.” There was a buzzing noise as the door unlocked. “I’m on the fourth floor. Be careful not to let my dog out – she loves to wander around when she’s not tended to.”

Mark had a dog? Huh. Jack had had no idea; he talked glowingly of his mother, of his brother, of life back in the middle of the country, where he was planning on going back to when he had his degree.

Unconsciously shuffling to the beat of his own heart, he walked upstairs instead of taking the elevator, enjoying the lights that flickered about with every stomp of his feet. He took a right and a left, and was standing at Mark’s doorstep before he knew it.

Knocking rapidly, he heard a muffled ‘the door’s not locked’ before he pushed the door inward. He was almost immediately met by a lovely golden retriever, who stood loyally right by the door and began to sniff him all over curiously. She seemed to approve, and began to lick the fingertips of his free hand.

The way her tail was beating against the furniture was aggravating his magic. The coffee began to percolate in Mark’s kitchenette, and the popcorn maker made an ominous pinging noise on the counter. Jack tried to diffuse it by gently patting the dog’s head. Its tongue lolled out happily, in a friendly way.

“Aww. You found Chica!”

Jack started and a glass on Mark’s kitchen counter exploded in a shower of a hundred fragments of glass. Mark groaned at the sight of the mess. “I don’t have the energy to…”

“Don’t worry,” Jack said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Here Chica bica!” Mark called, gently clapping his hands. “Here, Chica-bica-boo!” The dog scampered over to him and wove herself between his knees. Mark gently herded his dog back into the bedroom, and Jack busied himself finding the pan and brush. He was doubly careful to make sure all of the shards of glass were picked up before heating the soup in Mark’s microwave, finding a spoon, and joining Mark in the bedroom.

It was a surprisingly neat place, for someone who had spent the past twenty four hours feeling violently ill. The walls were bright blue, and the sheets recently cleaned. Chica spooned herself up against Mark’s back and wagged happily against the mattress when Jack returned – and Jack’s magic picked up the beat. The soup leapt a bit in the bowl.

“Do you think you can manage something?” he asked gently. 

Mark nodded. “I kept down some water three hours ago.” He pumped his muscular fist. Jack enjoyed the sight of him rather overmuch, especially because neither of them could properly act upon any urges they might be harboring when Mark was so sick. So he smiled and got to work dishing out the soup, then watching carefully as Mark sipped it. He edged toward the (mercifully clean) trashcan beside the bed, just in case.

“Thank you so much,” Mark sighed, settling onto his pillow-coated mattress, his eyes drifting shut. “You didn’t need to do any of this.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said. “You know I care for you. Want to see you get better, after all – who would I do if you just went poof?”

“Probably try to resurrect me.” His eyes popped open. “Witches can’t do that right?”

“Well,” Jack said, “not with people.”

He blinked up at Jack. “Please don’t tell me anything else,” he begged, then stretched and groaned. “I would love it if you’d stay here for awhile, but I’m not gonna be too sociable. Is that all right?”

“Sure,” Jack shrugged. “I’m off work for the night, and Holly and Suzy will be busy with their fellas. Have anything you want to do?”

“You’re gonna laugh at me, but do you like the Muppets?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t mind ‘em much. Do you have a comfort movie that makes you feel better?”

“The Muppet Movie,” said Mark. “It always made me feel better when I was a kid.”

“Okay. I’ll flip around cable. Do you have a DVD?”

“In the living room,” Mark said. He gently scratched Chica behind the ears, and Jack managed to find the movie on one of the many channels on his cable system (Mark had almost all of the premium channels prepped and ready to play; he really would have to ask him who was paying his bills someday).

“Found it on cable,” Jack explained, and unceremoniously hopped onto the bed. He kept a gentle distance from Mark as the movie flicked to life on the screen. Between them, Chica’s fuzzy belly heaved gently upward and downward, as she pursued her doggy dreams, as the world panoramaed out its beauties and its disasters behind her closed lids.

Jack made a soft cooing sound as he scratched her between the ears. She flomped her tail against his thigh, as if trying to keep him still – which was at least better for his magic. The steady beat meant he could control it inward, keep it focused on their three heartbeats and the little bonsai tree Mark was growing at the opposite end of the room.

“She really likes you,” Mark said. From the minimal amount of space between them Jack could feel the heat of Mark’s breath brushing against his elbow and smiled to himself. 

“Does she not like most people?” he asked.

Mark shrugged. “She likes to pee on the people she loves.”

“Well. That’s a friendly greeting, ain’t it?” he scratched her under the chin and baby-talked to her, earning him a wagging tail and a lick of the tongue. He grinned down at her goofily and Mark groaned. The bonsai tree grew a few inches, and began to bloom with white buds.

“She’s a big sweetie baby but she’s also a ham-lovin’ mooch.” Chica, recognizing that she was being talked about, harrumphed and rolled toward Jack, who was petting harder and paying more attention to the soft spot behind each ear. “Well, isn’t this a fine how-do-you-do?” 

Jack laughed and kept petting Chica, until the taps of her tail tapered off and she closed her eyes, pinning him in place with her head.

When she began to snore into his thigh he wasn’t entirely surprised. 

*** 

Jack and Mark each drifted into and out of their dreams, as the Muppets cheerfully attained and then lost fame together. 

“Life is a movie, write your own ending,” they warbled as a unit, and Jack smiled. Well, there was a lot of beautiful truth in that statement. And he’d keep on believing while avoiding pretending. He was sucked quietly back into the beauty of his childhood. When he’d clapped at the end of movies, vases had shattered and his sister’s dolls’ heads had imploded like shell casings. He resisted his best impulses to applaud along this time, too. When he shifted, Mark woke with a grunt.

“Hi buddy,” Jack said. “Still feeling OK?”

Mark nodded cautiously. “I think everything might be fine.” Chica woke at last, then her tail began to thump against the mattress, and Mark reached over to pet it. 

“Great,” Jack said, settling back in with a yawn.

“Thank you so much for coming out to help me. I know I’m not at my…beauty pageant best over here,” Mark said, laughing in self-depreciation

“Dating someone’s not just about sex, man,” Jack said. “Love’s looking out for each other. It’s taking care of each other when we’re at our worst.”

“Boy, don’t I know it?” Mark laughed. 

“And you haven’t seen me at my worst yet.”

“I think blowing up my mug is probably up there,” he said, yawning. Chica was shooting him puppy dog eyes from the mattress and he scratched her head. “Do you need to go for a walk?” he asked, and the word sent her skittering across the room, dragging the leash down from Mark’s side table. “Uggh,” he groaned dramatically.

“I’ll walk her!” Jack said immediately.

“Are you sure?” Mark asked.

“Yes!” Jack grinned, leaping up to his feet and rushing toward the door. “I need to work off some energy, and she seems to like me just fine.” Chica proved this statement to be true by weaving between his legs and sitting on his feet as Jack quickly buckled her lead into place.

 

Mark’s bleary eyes took him in, as the dog piled in behind him resting her long head against his knee. Jack cooed down at her, and latched.

“Thank you, man,” Mark said.

“Any day,” said Jack, and he cheerfully nudged the dog toward the safety of the back doorway.

*** 

Mark’s block was still asture, still incredibly well-groomed and maintained – from any angle it seemed. Jack drifted through the day, making quiet kissing noises to urge Chica along the sidewalk. She didn’t often need encouragement and stopped to bark and lick at every single thing that caught her eye. Jack dissuaded her gently, and kept her jogging along. He didn’t know how much exercise a dog her size really needed, but he tried to stay ahead of her pace and match it. And ignore the rhythm of her footfalls, even as it made the earth itself shake and glasses shatter on café tables. 

They rounded the corner toward the fruit stand and Jack bought a bunch of oranges and a bag of apples. Mark would need to get his vitamin levels up. He bought a rawhide treat for Chica for when they returned to the apartment, and when they did he gently tossed the bone across the room, sending her skittering after it. 

He found Mark in the kitchen, sipping tea and nibbling club crackers. He eyeballed Jack’s acquisition curiously. “Fruit?”

“Fruit!” Jack sang. Mark laughed at his enthusiasm and shook his head. “You need some vitamin c in you,” Jack said. “And this is about the best way to get it in you.”

“That’s what she said,” Mark grinned. But he took the oranges and set them in a wire bowl with the apples at the center of the table.

Jack raised an eyebrow at the sight. “Huh. Apples and oranges. I didn’t think of the contrast when I bought ‘em.”

“Aww, it’s like a miniature picture of you and me together,” Mark joked. “One of them needs to be a grapefruit to match my hair, tho.”

Jack cackled at that. “So, I suppose I’m gonna be headed back home. Don’t wanna be imposing while you recover…”

“Oh, you’re not, Mark smiled. “But I don’t want to get between you and your job,” he said quickly. “So I guess I’ll call you when I’m a little better?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you for the soup!” 

“Of course!”

“And for watching Chica…of course.”

A nervous laugh squashed its way from between Jack’s lips. They couldn’t kiss, but they could smile at each other. Mark’s was model-perfect, of course.

“I’ll see you soon,” Mark said, and gently shepherded Jack out the door, his hand lingering for a gentle microsecond upon his back. Jack felt Chica’s snoot bump the back of his knee, and felt a damp lick of a dog’s tongue there before the door closed behind him, leaving him in the warm, cavernous dark of the hallway.

*** 

The world was golden, suddenly, outside, and Jack was dancing his way home, his feet tapping against the bare concrete (which was a bad idea, and he knew it was a bad idea, but he was so happy that his joy needed some sort of expression before he popped like a bottle of shaken champagne).

But Jack was dancing now, his feet catching the concrete with a rapid-fire tippy-tap. He was only belatedly aware of the fact that flowerpots were leaping on windowsills, garbage can lids blowing up off of their containers.

He hit Holly and Suzy’s doorstep at full, giddy force. 

And every single window on the block shattered in a hail of glittering, shining glass shards. 

**  
“Well, the good news is our neighbor’s insurance is going to cover their building. The bad news is our landlord isn’t happy that he had to pay for ten thousand dollars in emergency glass,” Holly said.

Jack cringed. Needless to say, his happiness had drawn a lot of attention, and made a lot of money for the city’s glass installers. He nibbled nervously at the apple Holly had handed him as she worked to get breakfast together; she was terribly good at figuring out what it took to stem Jack’s never-ending, energy-expulsion induced cravings. “And I’m guessing he’s going to take it out of your rent?”

“Which he was already planning on doubling,” Holly sighed. 

“I promise you, I’ll figure out a way to pay every single cent back!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Suzy said. “I can hold him off for a little while.” 

Her confidence made Holly raise her eyebrows, and suddenly she yelled, “Suzy, you didn’t!”

Suzy cringed. “I only put a little bit of the laxative in the bunt cake. He’ll just be…busy for a few days. And it won’t be permanently scarring.”

“Can you please avoid doing all of those things people think witches do?” Holly begged. “It’s fun to go wild every now and again, but we have to keep the coven safe – and that’s going to be hard to do if you’re going to keep casting spells on our landlord.”

“It’s not really spellcasting,” Suzy said. “it’s just natural magic. And he deserved it for yelling at you this morning.”

“He yelled at you?” Jack asked, guilt cutting away at his heart.

Holly made a face. “You don’t have to worry about it, Jack. He’s not your landlord…”

“But it’s my fault,” he sighed. “All my fault and it’s ‘cause of my he’s mad at you.” She placed oatmeal before him, and he dipped his spoon in, stirring around the strawberry gel decorating the top. 

“And all Suzy’s fault that he’s going to spend the whole week on the toilet,” Holly said tartly.

“Well,” Suzy said. “Sweets to the not-so-sweet,” she smirked. “And we have a lot of work to do, if we want our neighbors not to be mad with us.”

Jack’s eyes lit up, and through a mouthful of oatmeal he said, “I have an idea!”

“Swallow,” Holly ordered, pointing a finger at him. He did so, repeated himself. 

“What do you think you’d like to do?” asked Holly.

“Why don’t we throw a party? At the coffee shop,” he said. “We could all perform, and auction some stuff off, and even sell some of the plants we’ve been growing.”

Holly and Suzy looked at each other. “That’s…pretty risky,” said Suzy. “we could be exposing the whole community to something that’s dangerous from the outside world.”

“But we have no choice,” Jack pointed out. “If we want to fix everything and if we really want everything to get better, then we should take it to the community.”

Suzy grinned. Holly frowned. “You’re going to bring this up at the next coven meeting, aren’t you?” Suzy asked.

“With bells on,” Jack grinned. Holly laughed and poured him a glass of milk.

*** 

“This is absolutely out of the question!”

Jack winced at the high, shrill tone of the head of the coven – Lady Ragnall had been running the show for as long as he could remember, and she held the entire group of them in her sway. “But it’s the best way to make up for what I did,” he said. “And witches are barely tolerated outside of the group, and I…”

“Thought you’d make things even harder for the lot of us by trying to get attention from people who have no business understanding why glasses shatter whenever you stomp your feet?”

Jack winced. “I think it would be the best idea. You know that Arin and Dan already understand everything that’s going on with the coven…”

“Yes,” those two human interlopers Suzy and Holly are so terribly fond of,” she sniffed.

“But Lady Ragnell…” Suzy began.

“Hush, dear. _I_ tried to connect you with a handsome shape shifter from Arizona. But no, you fell in love with that illustrator…”

“He’s an animator.”

“He’s a nuisance,” corrected Lady Ragnell. “And you give him far more leeway with the information we cherish than I have with any human I’ve ever encountered.”

Suzy was somewhat taken aback by this revelation. “The human world and ours is heavily interconnected. We just need to keep trying…”

“I won’t sanction this. I understand why you want to help them and rectify your mistake - but there are other ways. Use your repairing powers in the middle of the night, be stealthy, try to heal what you’ve broken without making yourself known. Protecting the lot of you is the most important thing I’ve been tasked with, and I’m not about to get into a little feud with the prying humans you’ve invited in.”

“Wasn’t there intermarrying back in the 60s?” Holly had done her research and she well knew that there had been. In fact, she was the most learned witch in the coven, so learned that Jack tended to srtay quiet and hang back while she was speaking to avoid getting in the way of her eloquent roll.

Jack was in fact standing right next to her as she released this bit of wisdom to the masses, and the head of the coven was visibly less than pleased with her choice of words. 

“The 60s were a different time,” said Lady Ragnell. “And I have the scars and acid flashbacks to prove it.”

She left the three of them alone to stew over her words then, and they left the meeting in a cluster, chatting among themselves.

“Let’s just try to use magic the way she said,” Holly said.

“No way,” Suzy said. “If we do that it’ll be as good as giving up without helping everyone. I think Jack’s idea is worthwhile. And I really think we should try to put on the performance. We’ll just keep quiet.”

“I’ve got it!” Jack said. “We’ll throw an all-night party! We’ll ask Arin and Dan to bartend – we’ll have an open mic and we’ll have a crafting table!”

“….A crafting table?”Holly repeated incredulously. 

“They can make like…beaded necklaces! And we can make them harmless, watered down potions!”

“Jack!” Holly said. “You know our potion making skills aren’t up to snuff yet! What if we mess up and turn someone into a llama?”

“We won’t,” Jack said confidently. “But if either of you want to turn me into a sexy, sexy version of Eartha Kitt I will not say no to that.”

Holly groaned as Suzy giggled at his silliness. “I think we’ll do just fine making you a Jack. Just be careful with your magic.”

“Be careful with your potions.”;

“Be careful,” Holly said, guiding him around a very deep crack In the pavement, “not to trip.”

Jack grinned, and dodged the seam. He was going to make this an amazing party if he had to crawl his way through the fire that had been set before him.

“Now all we need to do is convince Arin and Dan to say yes to us!” Jack said.

“Oh,” Hollly said, “I’m sure they’ll say yes!”

*** 

“Um…no,” Arin said, when the three of them presented their plan.

“But,” Sputtered Jack. He desperately needed the coffee shop for his plan to come true.

“Dude, this isn’t our bar. We’re employees,” Dan said. “If we throw a party without corporate permission, we could be fired.”

“What if we make it worth your while?” Jack asked.

“Dude,” reproved Arin. Jack’s jaw dropped at the implication. 

“NOT IN THAT WAY!” he said. As if Holly or Suzy would ever suggest he do such a thing and as if they’d ever let him do it. He stood up a little bit straighter and stuck his chest out. “I will do you any favor you desire, and any favor I can fulfill for you through the power of magic.”

Arin and Dan traded a look. “Can you make sure our boss never finds out about this? Like ever ever?”

Jack shrugged. “Well, I’ve never done a memory wipe before…”

“Nothing that extreme!” Dan yelled, and then regretted the noise. “Just keep it from him. I’ll show you a picture of him and if he shows up try to distract him. Otherwise, we won’t tell if you won’t.”

Jack grinned, and crossed himself for luck. “I’ll even ask Mark if he’d like to come.”

“As long as he doesn’t bring his dog. Chica’s a good girl, but she doesn’t seem to understand that tables won’t bend to her will when she jumps at them.”

But Dan was grinning when he said it, was smiling as he reached for his rag and whisked the bar clean. Jack was already starting to picture the party, and how well it would hopefully go, once he got everything on the road.

He grabbed his phone and texted Mark.

 

*** 

“Dude, this is like an elementary school party.”

Jack winced at the slightly nasal tone of the very stoned college student sitting at the back of the room. There were a surprisingly large number of . “Do elementary school parties have free beer?” Indeed, the four twelve packs they’d bought were slowly but surely disappearing from behind the bar, much to his relief.

The guy blinked at him very, very slowly. “No,” he said decisively. 

“All right,” Jack said, through gritted teeth. He grabbed the microphone. “So who wants to go first? Does anyone have any jokes? Got any laughs to share?”

“Right fuckin’ here, dude!” said Dan. Naturally he had his bass with him. Jack gave over the microphone and surrendered to Dan’s musicianship. Comfortably sitting by the coffee bar, he glugged down the espresso Arin had just prepared and let out a long sigh, letting the song wash over him. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket – no messages. Jack texted Mark one more time. _Waiting for you_ he said. _And your sweet guitar skills!_ He felt a spike of anxiety when a few minutes passed without the – Jack had been so busy over the past few weeks planning the party that he hadn’t had time to pay close enough attention to Mark. He felt guilty, sitting there waiting for his phone to buzz – when it did, in the middle of Dan’s ten minute long Rush medley, he picked it up.

_Walking Chica! Be there in a second!_

Relief hit his stomach, unknotting it. Why had he been so worried Mark wouldn’t turn up? Was he really afraid that his idea was terrible and childish? Was he too worried to see himself as a some kind of drippy, weird, useless nerd who could never compete with Mark’s coolness? What did it matter? He’d seen Mark vulnerable as hell, sick as a dog, and loved him regardlessly. Mark knew his magic was so uncontrolled that ie was almost a form of wildness, and yet he stayed, eagerly stayed. What kind of miracle was that? Jack only knew that he didn’t deserve a scintilla of it.

He eyeballed the tip jar by Dan’s feet as a girl in a crop-top, giggling drunkenly, shoved a couple of hundred dollars through its wide-lipped mouth. Jack almost rolled his eyes in fondness but stayed out of her way. He caught Holly’s gaze, saw her sit up straighter and clear her throat. Holly wasn’t the most vengeful of witches, but oh, when you got her going…

When the girl’s drink kept bubbling over in its glass, forcing her to repeatedly pay for new ones, Jack knew whose magic was at work.

 

*** 

Mark burst through the front door just as Dan had burst into an extremely long song about slaying dragons. Jack lurched toward him, threw his arms and legs around the comforting bulk of Mark, almost groaning in relief at the sensation of physical contact.

“How’s everything going?” Mark asked. Chica promptly started weaving between the poles of their legs, and Mark tutted her gently. “No, Chica Bica, sit!” She chose to do just that on Jack’s feet.

“Terribly.” The coffee house was partially full, true, but the audience looked somewhat bored. “What do you think we can do?”

Mark smirked, reached into his front pocket – inside was a shiny key. “The solution and cause of every single problem in human history is one sweet thing, baby. Alcohol.”

“But we already have cheap beer on draft…” he trailed off as Mark wriggled his eyebrows. “What do you have down in that restaurant where you work part-time?”

“Stuff,” Mark said. “Also things.”

“How unhelpful,” said Jack.

Mark smiled. “Come on. We can walk there.” He called Suzy over, giving her Chica’s leash. “Every time she tries to make a run for it, give her one of these liver snaps,” Mark instructed.

“Wait, make a run for it?” Suzy said.

“Well, she is an adventurous pupper schnupper,” Mark said, while Jack stuck out his tongue. He loved that girl, but she was something of a pain in the butt, and even more importantly she tended to get troublesome when she was around large crowds of people. Her calmatitude as she climbed off of Jack’s feet and came to stand before Suzy with adoring eyes sort of belied all of his criticisms though. 

“We’ll take good care of her,” Suzy promised. She clicked her tongue and petted Chica until her tail wagged, slapping into the legs of those passing by.

Mark grabbed Jack’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “You could use a long, good walk.”

Jack took Mark’s hand – smooth, warm without being damp at all, solid within his grip. They easily slid off into the bustle of the city around them, discovering the chill and the surprising quiet that the city could offer them on a night like this. 

Jack contentiously failed to match Mark’s strides and kept the sidewalk intact, the flowerpots from shattering and the windows from breaking. Again. 

*** 

When Jack was fully out of earshot of the building – away from Dan’s voice, and away from the bang of the patrons they’d managed to draw – Jack pulled Mark in close by the lapels, planting a warm kiss on his open mouth.

They parted, and Mark was blushing fire-engine bright. “Oh,” he said. “Hello.”

“I’ve been missing that for months,” Jack admitted. “Between you getting sick and this mess of a party we’ve had no time at all.”

“Work’s been a nightmare,” he said. “And I didn’t want to be a pain in the butt when your party was just coming together.”

“I’d love for you to be a pain in my butt,” Jack muttered. Mark’s eyes lit up, bright as a roman torch, and Jack cursed. “Did I say that out loud?”  
“Yep,” Mark said. They resumed their walk to the restaurant, and the familiar wine cellar that Mark oh-so-easily unlocked. “I’m not going to touch the good stuff, but there’s some Rothschild that should be great…and…” He pulled out several large, jewel-bright bottles of rum, vodka, and Jaagermeister. “Let’s get them blasted, then get them dancing!”

Jack grinned. “You are an amazing boyfriend. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

His ears turned cherry red. “Oh, once or twice,” he admitted. “But they didn’t mean it the way you do.”

Jack wrapped an arm around Mark’s neck. He was solid, warm, strong and secure. “I don’t know how I’ll thank you for all of this…”

“Jack…” Jack was nibbling Mark’s neck. He sighed. “I’m afraid that if we’re as wild as I want to be, we’re going to have a big mess on our hands.”

“And me without any lube,” Jack said, yanking Mark into a warm, sweet kiss.

*** 

He ended up sucking Mark’s dick. An enlightening experience, an illuminating one, the feeling of his boyfriend’s cock throbbing against his tongue, the weight and salt and heft of it throbbing along the base of his tongue. Jack sucked and swallowed, lost in his own world as Mark moaned and squirmed.

He concentrated all of his rhythmic magic on this act – concentrated as hard as he could. All he wanted to do was make Mark happy. All he wanted to do was get him off so hard he saw stars shooting behind his closed eyes. 

Mark was moaning, in that rich, deep timbre of his. His thighs were like rocks under Jack’s palms, and his features were tightly screwed up. He was clearly lost in joy, distracted by the pleasure he was being given. Jack’s fingers tickled his rippled lower belly, his sweaty skin flinching and relaxing. They were moving with the rhythm of Jack’s mouth, and it was so good, his throat was so full, and Mack was thickening and getting hotter in his throat and he sucked down harder and his head moved to an internalized beat.

He sucked down and Mark’s hands braced themselves in Jack’s hair.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck coming oh god!” 

Jack doubled down, sucking as hard as he could. He was aware of a distant rattling, of a popping sound, of sour-thick heat, of Mark tensing and rippling, waving, his cock throbbing and twitching on the base of his tongue. Mark was coming, his head pressed back against the wall, and Jack was coming in his pants without being touched, the whole world vibrating deep inside of him, his whole body devoted and lost to the passion of the moment, so far gone he couldn’t coherently do anything but hold on and spasam and let the pleasure spread over his body, golden-sweet.

Then he was aware of the sound of liquid rushing all around, him, and the feeling of something plastering against his thick, leather jacket. He cracked one eye open and saw Mark’s flushed face hovering over him.

And then realized that the champagne bottles had not only bubbled over to volatile life, they’d imploded, their corks bursting and raining juicy globs of sweet, expensive champagne all over the floor. They were both soaked and would have to stop by Jack’s place before they went back to the coffee shop.

“Ugh,” Jack remarked.

“Ew,” Mark sighed. He took his dry jacket and draped it around Jack’s waist, which he was grateful for. “Don’t worry about the overflow,” he instructed. “There are drains on the floor that should take care of that.”

“Right, but how are we gonna cover up all these bottles?” Jack asked. 

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Mark said. He grabbed Jack by the elbow and steered him toward a small back room with several casks of lower-quality champagne.

It took them several hours to carefully re-fill the bottles, but everything looked nominally normal and was even starting to dry out by the time they swung by Mark’s apartment.

*** 

Carrying the booze with them on their backs as if they were infinitely precious, vulnerable children, Jack plucked at the waistband of his pants for the millionth time, trying to straighten his hem. “Do I look bonkers?” he asked Mark lightly.

“No, just like a man with a slightly smaller waist than I have.”

“Good enough,” Jack sighed. The lights of the coffee bar looked almost inviting, and people looked like they were having a good time, the music loud – somehow Dan had gathered his ragtag band up, and they were on the main stage right now leading the entire audience in a sing-along of Don’t Stop Believing. 

He understood why a moment later, when a blast of pot-scented air actually made Jack cough up a lung.

Everyone inside was blissed out. The liquor was flowing freely, the music was blasting, and there was a cluster of teenagers gathered around Chica, petting her head as Suzy stood beside her with a Dixie cup labeled ‘twelve dollars a pet’. 

“I think using my dog without cutting me in is a little…much,” Mark suggested. He cooed to the dog as Suzy relinquished the leash.

“We did what we had to do for money,” she pointed out. “And it wasn’t too hard to get together, with a little bit of elbow grease.”

“And um…” Holly trailed off and blinked, and took another bite of a brownie. 

“We worked our fingers to the bone trying to get everyone on the same level,” Arin interjected suddenly. “Then Dan called his hook up and we started selling joints marked up by twenty cents. No one’s smart enough to notice what we’re doing so we’re making a killing. Big crowd! Everyone’s getting down and we have almost enough money to pay for the windows.”

“Aww, you’re all fabulous.” He noticed Suzy smiling at him, and taking rather audible sniffs of his collar. “What?” he asked.

“You smell like champagne.” 

Mark flushed and Jack laughed nervously and he and Mark moved away from the crowd. Chica sat down with a huff right in the middle of the dance floors, seemingly glad not to be handled by anyone. As Dan swung into a ballad, Mark shrugged.

“So. We’re both here. And there’s lots of music in the air…”

“I know. I’m right near a speaker,” Jack grinned. 

“I don’t suppose you’d like to take real advantage of this moment?” he asked.

“Oh,” Jack shrugged. “Well – I wouldn’t be opposed to the notion of it.”

Mark wrapped his arm around Jack and – trying to maneuver themselves to they wouldn’t get horribly tangled up in Chica’s leash – began to gently dance Jack about the room, head on his shoulder, eyes closed tightly as if he were trying to conjure the sweetest prayer to life.

What could Jack do but lean back into Mark, feel the rhythm pound up through his feet like a second heartbeat, and watch out for Chica’s dancing limbs? It was a beautiful moment – one that made him feel like they were alone even though the room was filled with active, dancing strangers.

Mark’s face was before him, the scent of his breath sweet. Jack parted his lips – whiskey-soaked or not – and prepared to let him in.

And Jack’s little fantasy ended on an abrupt squawk from Dan. “Oh shit, guys!! It’s four-thirty!” Dan leaned into the microphone, “Everyone out. We open for an hour if you want to sober up, but you can’t stay here.”

The crowd began to groan and disperse as Jack saved the tip jar. He would count the money up later, when there was time to consider what they would do and where they’d go. Suzy and Holly shuffled between tables dumping glasses, and Dan ran to the back, turning on every air vent and fan in the entire building. The mechanical, industrial whirling sounds made Jack want to hold his throbbing temples. He thanked Dan’s band for showing up, tipped them with some of the jar money. They were cool – for a bunch of guys dressed up like robots.

“I don’t know how they manage not to overheat,” said Jack. He almost admired their fortitude. 

“Practice,” Dan said. He sounded frantic. “We only have like, two hours before the store’s supposed to open,” he admitted. Functioning highly in spite of being stoned out of his mind, he opened every vent in the place and turned the AC on full blast. The supply truck pulled up at the back of the shop with a delivery of fresh baked goods and dairy products, and Dan raced to meet it. The overpowering scent of pumpkin-laced baked goods filled the air, competing with the extremely obvious odor of pot. 

“Oh God, we’re so going to be boned.” Jack remarked. Dan glared at Arin as he headed to the back room, who was sitting comfortably at the counter, staring out into space with the deadest eyes Jack had ever seen.

“Arin, m’bucko, are you feeling all right?” Jack asked.

“I can see through time,” Arin said calmly. “Like, all the way through time, dude.”

“Fabulous. How are we going to cover up for a certain someone’s space cadetting?” Jack asked. 

“How are we going to get everything running?” Suzy’s head was beginning to clear – she was mopping up the floor, putting glasses back to right. Jack helped her load the dishwasher, which was soon humming as it steam cleaned away the evidence. Holly moved in slow motion at Mark’s side, and the two of them started pulling down streamers and signs. They would have to go around and remove posterboard from telephone poles, but so far everything looked nearly presentable. Arin was roused and he started steam-cleaning the inside of the machines. Soon there was fresh coffee on the boil and there were pastries being warmed and sunlamped. The sugary scent was finally starting to win out, and Dan was dousing himself in cologne, dousing Arin as he sputtered and struggled. It didn’t smell like pot by the time the five-o’clock hour rolled around, and all evidence of the party rested in the dumpster outside the building. Suzy and Holly managed to get the lights off, turn on the AC as the sun crested over the top of the building and their manager finally showed up.

Jack had never gotten the guys’ name, but he looked like a slightly more merry faced Danny DeVito. He eyeballed the entire lot of them with undisguised curiosity. “You’re both amazingly punctual this morning.”

“We were up late studying for a final,” Dan lied smoothly. The boss harrumphed and got behind the register – a big clue for Holly, Suzy Jack and Mark to buy something or get out. As the morning rush filled the shop, the four of them sat together with the huge jar of money and continued to spoon food between their lips until they were too tired to keep their eyes open. 

They walked back to Holly and Suzy’s place and crashed with Chica, sleeping the afternoon away, waking at a vampiric hour to the sound of Arin and Dan’s snoring coming from the living room. 

Jack blinked himself awake – energy filled his limbs – the need to get some magic out of his system immediately. So he thumped to the kitchen and made dinner – where he found Mark and Chica, snoring at the table.

His cooking was what pulled everyone else into the room – the scent of steak frying and vegetables sizzling. The sound of rice boiling. The way Jack was humming, which was making the rice pop, and the steak leap in the superhot frying pan. 

There was something lovely, something cozy and domestic about it all. The entire gang – looking exhausted – gathered around for Jack’s nine PM dinner breakfast. 

Leftovers went to a hungry Chica and Jack – delighted to be this close to Mark with no interruptions in the forseeable future to the contact between the two of them – watched the others eat.

“Ugh. Let’s climb into bed. Leave the dishes, Jack – I’ll do them in the morning,” Holly said.

“All right – I guess I’ll be walking Mark home,” he said. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Mark said. “I think it’s time for Chica to her business. Huh, isn’t it time to make the donuts, have you Chica Bica Booba?” 

“Eww,” remarked Arin lightly. He and Suzy were walking hand-in-hand to the bedroom, while Holly and Dan lingered together in the quiet of the kitchen. Jack got his keys, and he wrapped his arm around Mark. The trip to the apartment was short, but they lingered in the moonlight for as long as they could, absorbing the beauty of the night and enjoying each other’s company. 

“Thank you for coming,” Jack said. “You didn’t have to, after everything my magic’s put you through.”

“Jack, your magic is some of the coolest stuff I’ve ever seen in my life,” Mark said. “I’m glad that you choose to share it with me. And I’m really glad you decided to be with me, even though I’m just…so fucking ordinary. I’m the most regular, boring joe in the world but you’re here with me, spending time with me.”

“Mark, there’s not a thing ordinary about you,” protested Jack.

“Tell my professor that,” Mark said archly, grinning. They paused while Chica visited a lamp post, then decorated the neighbor’s lawn with an especially fragrant statement of distaste for his incongruously large garden gnome. 

“A cement garden gnome. That’s asking for trouble,” Jack said.

“Or an injury,” Mark said. Together they made the way back to the building. 

“You won’t be missing any work because of me, will you?”

“Nah,” Mark said. “I have plenty of sick days all saved up. It’ll be just fine.” The two of them came to a halt in front of Mark’s building. The moon was enormous, and seemed to provide all of the mood lighting they’d ever need. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mark said softly.

“Tomorrow,” Jack mumbled. Chica whimpered between them and he cooed, bending down, petting her silky head. When he turned to leave, Mark’s hand caught his elbow.

His eyes were nervous, but Jack was leaning in, pressing himself in eagerness against his warm mouth. The kiss seemed to overwhelm him, washing away his reserve of resistance like a high and mighty tidal wave. Then they were being pried apart. Mark’s fingertips teased the button crowning Jack’s fly. “Y’know, I do owe you some sort of reciprocal action. Not ‘owe’ but…you know,” he grinned. “I’d be honored to show you what made me the best horn player in Ohio.”

“You play the horn?”

“The trumpet!” Mark admitted. Jack was already braced for the bad joke before it came out of Mark’s mouth. “That’s not the only thing I blow!” he chirped.

Jack kissed Mark’s lips one more time. “If you tell that joke again,” he said, “I’m never going to put my tongue in your mouth again.”

“Understood,” Mark said immediately. “But I would like to repay you. Any way I can.”

Jack leaned into Mark’s chest. “Get Chica inside before she bolts,” he said. “Then maybe we’ll find a fun way to use your clever tongue.”

“God I love the way you talk,” Mark sighed. Soon he was jiggling open the door and taking the dog upstairs. Jack followed eagerly. He knew he was going to be devoured once they made it upstairs, into the private sanctuary of Mark’s apartment. 

When he opened the door there was a moment to get his borrowed coat off. Then Mark was kissing him as Chica jingled about their ankles. 

Jack had just enough presence of mind to kick the door closed behind him. Then Mark was tugging his shirt up, tugging his shirt off, and pulling him into the sanctity of his bedroom. 

*** 

Mark was a thorough lover.

This shouldn’t have surprised Jack – the man was an engineering student, after all, he was born to technical mastery and knew how to apply learning. But Lying there writhing as Mark licked his nipples, teased his way down Jack’s stomach, nibbled his hip bones, he felt well-cherished, well-known, as if he’d written his entire name upon Jack’s skin – as if he’d looked him up in some strange dictionary and memorized every single inch of him.

Jack’s mind was all fuzzy with heat. Mark’s mouth was descending toward Jack’s cock, and he could feel his own heart beating in the base of his cock, could feel it in the back of his head, and his feet was kicking, and the bed was vibrating but oh, it felt so good, so brain-erasingly good that he couldn’t even focus his energy. He was utterly, totally overwhelmed with bliss.

Mark’s mouth descended and took in Jack’s flesh. There was heat, wetness, the slippery slide of a tongue. Jack’s hips began to move. His toes curled. 

Something nearby was cracking, splintering. He couldn’t hear it over the extremely loud sounds of his own impending orgasm. Couldn’t hear or do anything except hold on and groan, wrap his arms and legs around Mark and shake from head to toe. The orgasm filled every part of him, overwhelmed him, dragged him down and lifted him up in the same instance. Hurled from the heavens like a bolt of lightning, Jack’s nerves sang. He saw the universe. He touched God’s face. The world seemed to quake apart and reform into something beautiful and new. His body shook. His cock pumped come into Mark’s eager mouth.

He came harder than he ever had in his life, to put a fine point on it all.

When his mind returned to itself, when he felt clarified and sweet once again, he opened his eyes and saw Mark starting up at him, his slick lips swollen. 

Then he noticed how lopsided the bed was. And the dusting of feathers decorating the top of Mark’s head. Jack blinked very slowly at him in total confusion. “Did I blow your pillows up with the awesomeness of my orgasm?”

“Something like that,” Mark said. He was grinning as he pulled a feather from his mouth. Crawling up Jack’s body to meet his lips, they kissed slowly, sweetly, with tenderness and passion. 

“Have I ever mentioned,” Jack said, nuzzling the side of Mark’s neck, “that I love the way you look in those glasses?”

“Even when they’re smeared up?” Mark asked. His muscular body pressed Jack’s gently into the mattress, and it was a surprisingly cozy feeling. He didn’t even feel smothered in the least bit.

“Especially when they’re smeared up. I love a man who’s all sexy and mussed. Makes me feel like I’m dating a very hot werewolf.”

“Excuse me, I happen to be a meticulous groomer.” But he grinned up at Jack and kissed his lips. Jack could taste the sour salt of his own come and blushed. Jesus, he was turning into a teenage girl. Who the hell would ever let themselves think such silly, romantic thoughts about their quasi-boyfriend.

“We’ve got to think of a way to tame my magic,” Jack sighed. “I don’t want to turn into some kind of walking earthquake every time we do it.”

“Well, the earth quakes every time you tap your toes. I was going to suggest you try magical tap-dancing but I don’t know if that will help you in the end.”

Jack’s eyes brightened up. “Say. That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I could take my growing magic and try to apply it to a florist’s shop or something. Or rent myself out as a human jackhammer.” 

Mark did laugh at that. They kissed again, their arms and legs wrapping easily, tangling lightly. There was an amazingly intense sense of belonging between them, a feeling that everything was going to work out, and would be perfect from now on.

It was a soapy, fairy-tale feeling. Jack had no idea how long it was going to last, but he wanted to ride that sensation for as long as he could. He wanted to be with Mark, climb with Mark, struggle alongside Mark for all of his days.

“Jack, you’re tearing up,” Mark said. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh no,” he said. “You’ve made me happy. So happy I could squeeze you to death.”

“Save my ribs,” he laughed. “I need them to breathe with.”

Jack let Mark climb off of him. Full-bellied and comfortable, he was lulled off to sleep, listening to Mark’s breathing puffing against the back of his neck.

*** 

“And so you see that matter and force equal…” Professor Wecht sighed and looked up from his chalkboard, his eyes piercing Jack’s as he fiddled with the thick black pen he’d been taking notes with. “Mister McLoughlin, would you please pay attention to the lesson? I would rather you avoid puncturing my floor again with your incessant tapping.”

Jack fixed his features into a smile, even as the others around him giggled. He needed to stay on Professor Wecht’s good side – he was going to ask him for a favor, one that would probably make or break his academic career. 

When the bell rang he was at his desk. “Professor! I had a question about something!”

“Of course you do,” Professor Wecht sighed. “Very well – tell me what your problem is.”

“I was curious about mass and motion. I have a lot of problem with instability when it comes to my…apartment. Because I live near train station! Yes. I was wondering if there’s a way to disperse energy and vibration in a way that will cause a lot less damage to the inside of my house.”

“Of course. The key is to provide counterbalance in the same frequency. If something else is vibrating at the same frequency it should cause harmonic convergence. But if it’s vibrating at another frequency, total collapse will occur.”

“That sounds frightening,” Jack remarked.

“It is,” said Brian unhelpfully. “But where there’s a will, there’s a way. And you can always get away from the train trellis. Move. Find a better apartment.”

“Oh if I could I would,” he sighed. 

The professor stared at him. “Do you have any further questions?”

“Nope,” he said. 

“Then you’re dismissed. Apply your learning, child.”

He smiled. “If I’m good at anything, it’s taking my lessons well,” Jack said.

Not a total lie. And he was getting better at figuring out his magic, thanks to Holly and Suzy.

It would just be a learning process he’d have to embrace and make himself used to in time.

 

** 

The coven had circled around Jack by the end of the meeting. “You raised ten thousand dollars without magic?” Lady Ragnell stared at Jack in disbelief, but his beaming expression told the whole story.

“Yes indeed,” he crowed. “In two hours, the home owner’s association for this are is going to receive a huge anonymous donation.”

“Oh, plant magic had something to do with it,” Suzy said. “We made a lot of coffee!” she added very quickly, before Lady Ragnell could ask questions.

“Well…since you managed not to leave evidence behind that this coven exists, and you’ve also fixed the mistake you made, I suppose my harsh judgment was wrong. You acquitted yourself well, fledgling McLoughlin. Excellent work, and my hat’s off to you.”

Jack beamed. The rest of the coven cheered him, and pride lit his heart. He thought to himself that he’d finally done it – finally managed to make someone proud of him.

Managed to make several people proud of him. 

Maybe his unpredictable magic didn’t make him so dangerous and unlikable after all.

*** 

Jack was excitedly walking with Mark and Chica down the cobbled streets by Jack’s apparement. It was finally starting to warm up more, and things were beginning to turn around for all of them. The neighborhood had been thrilled by Jack’s gift and managed to replace all of the windows, and they shined in the afternoon light. Jack had taken Professor Wecht’s advice and was learning to counterbalance his rhythms – moving two feet instead of one, two fingers instead of one. It seemed to balance out his percussive magic and finally transfer all of the energy out into growing magic. It was a learning process, but one that seemed to be working. Every step forward he made was a positive one – everything was settling and everything was working.

Mark had quit his job waiting tables and was working behind the bar at the coffee shop full time. Though his mother was still spoiling him, which made him feel just a little bit uncomfortable, he was starting to aquit himself as both an engineer and a bartender. Jack was ineffably proud of him. Soon he’d be meeting Mark’s mom in person, an idea that made his stomach bubble and foam like champagne.

But they’d get through it together.

“You know, I’m kind of glad you broke my mug that day,” Mark observed. “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had an excuse to see me again.” 

“Bless my clumsiness. At least I didn’t break the rest of you,” Jack said.

“Can witches do that?” he wondered.

“No. But we can heal people.” Then he pulled Mark close, pressed their lips together, and let Chica yip and hop her joy beside them.

And as their mouths touched, every flower in every windowbox for miles around bloomed to life in the middle of a sweet, early March afternoon.


End file.
